into the free. crone sweet crone,
Thursday 17:00
I skipped up to the porch, a layer of grime and mould covered the low stone retainer wall that skirted the three white steps that led to the door. I tried to look through the windows to the interior to see what lay beyond the door, but like everything else on the outside there was a layer of grime that prevented any observation.
The bent key slipped into the paint chipped ornate keyhole. it turned surprisingly easy and gave a satisfying click as the lock disengaged. I gripped the door handle and opened the door. I braced myself for a rush of stale air but instead a scent of violets and honeysuckle greeted me as I stepped inside.
The hall's decoration was dated but very clean, not a trace of dust anywhere among the unused coat racks or expensive looking hall tables. The hall was bigger than my first flat and it lead onto a wide staircase that had a white six panelled door sat either side. I dropped my rucksack onto the floor. I was home.
I ran around the house, to excited to take in each room in detail just to find where everything was and to just see it all. I marvelled at the array of different uses rooms could be put to and I made a note to explore the library and games room (I'd never seen a full size snooker table before ever!), but my ultimate goal was to find the master bedroom and if they had such things back when this house was built (with block and tackle at the time of stone henge) an en suite.
My quest took me to the first floor where of the five rooms, one was locked and even with a slight bump that bruised my shoulder and aggravated my neck scar, three were bedrooms all larger than my current but nothing outstanding and the forth a deep and wide bathroom with beautiful blue paint and coral curtains hanging either side of a viewing window that through a patterned net curtain displayed the expansive gardens in all their glory. The bath was sat upon four curved legs in the middle of the real wood floor. I mean, its was just sat in the middle of the room, no wall to butt up to, no corner to hide in, just a beautiful curving bath sat upon polished oak timbers surrounded by space. There was a sink of carved stone on a pedestal with a cake of soap of sapphire blue sitting untouched between two curly silver taps. It took all of my will power to not strip off straight away and plunge myself into a steaming bath. ( I have never been so glad I brought the good shampoo.)
Reluctantly leaving the bathroom I headed back to the stairs and walked the eighteen steps to the second floor. Four rooms stood two abreast in the small landing and I opened them in turn clockwise. The two at the rear of the house were store rooms, one had an iron bed frame with no mattress (which I learned later was the maids room when servants were employed), boxes piled three high and room deep in neat rows with a smell of old paper.
It was the two doors that led to the rooms at the front of house that made my jaw drop. On the left there was a huge bedroom with a bed bigger than any Sultan or Maharaja would dream of. It was covered crisp sheets of gold and cream and feather filled pillows of softest down.
I launched myself into a full body jump onto the bed and bounced into the softest and most tender cuddle I had ever received from anything other than my Mum. A Narnia style wardrobe stood next to a dresser and vanity table that had a silver hairbrush and jewellery box which opened up to a velvet lined stacked tray containing a delicate gold necklace with a diamond drop attached in a lattice of gold thread. I knew this one thing was worth more than I could ever earn in ten life times. I shut the box quickly to avoid temptation of draping it around my neck and posing in the mirror facing me on the table.
The only puzzle in this room that I mentally noted to ask Xanthic later was a plinth next to a panoramic window upon which was an earthenware vase, undecorated, no pattern other than a wide lip, but with a hole cracked into one side, a few hair width cracks snaking away from centre.
The right hand room was a forest. Green leaved plants were heavily in abundance with lush foliage, ferns sat next to exotic flowers and trees. All that was missing was high humidity and bird song and I would have sworn I had stepped into the Amazon. The thickness of the flora prevented me seeing the far end of the room and without an obvious path I hesitated to walk into the room.
I made a hesitant step forward, my right foot hovering off the floor and I rocked it back and forward but could not find the incentive to place it within the confines of the green. Instead, telling myself I was going to settle into a bedroom and come back to explore later and not that I was scared of a house plant or two, I closed the door behind me and hurried back down the stairs.
I chucked my bag onto the bed in the bad bedroom on the first floor. I could have easily taken the larger bedroom upstairs but I am a girl of simple tastes and the smaller room more suits my style; that and that wonderful bathroom is just a few steps away and I can easily stroll from one room to the other effortlessly.
*
The zip on my rucksack is always stiff, but today it stuck. It took all my strength with hands gripped either side of the zip, fingers down in the small hole the zip allowed me to create before it skipped a beat and refused to move anymore, to get it to move. As the zip popped from its seating, the cheap metal bending and coming away, the bag opened and flew into the air as I was struck with a sudden biting pain in my left hand.
I looked at my hand as blood started to swell through a rough edged tear in the soft skin of my fingers. Iron filled my mouth as I sucked on my hand, my blood touching my lips and tongue as I licked it better. It wasn't bad and the blood stopped quickly so I grabbed my favourite summer dress from the floor where it fell from the bag and opened my handbag to get the good stuff ready for a long soak in the bath.
I had to do a double take when my bag opened, it was full of money. Cash notes, legal folding tender. I picked it up and thought for a second I had someone else's, but no, no one would have an identical rouge leather with blue strap (an amalgamation of two bags and a necessity when money was tight and decent nice new handbags were out of the gallery, let alone just the picture).
Pulling at least an inch of money out and holding it in my hand I fanned it out and looked at it with a smile. Some of the notes were much bigger than others with our beloved Queen looking so much younger than on current notes, there was even a folded white paper note filled with swirly and squiggly writing that look hand written. With what I recognised as proper money I guessed I had over £700. Well what can a girl do? Out in the country, a few quid in hand and a summer dress that deserves to be shown off.
"Pub." I sang as I skipped to the bathroom with shampoo in hand. Luckily I accidently packed my red heels as well as my sensible shoes.
*
18:35
An internet search of the local area highlighted three very respectable public houses within staggering distance of the house (essential for the trip home as I was not planning on driving). Bag on shoulder and shoes in hand I hurried down the stairs to the ground floor and hopped across the cold floor in my bare feet. The front door opened and I turned to lock it once I was through. I bent to slip on my shoes, reaching for the door to balance; as my head was bowed I saw a pair of legs down the drive. Standing, I turned to face them and saw an old lady, flowing black clothes hanging to the floor. A baggy skirt lace edged and silver buckle holding a knitted shawl across thin shoulders. Within the black stood a pencil thin as equally as straight woman, head held high and proud; piercing intelligent eyes looked straight at me without falter. Hair, greying with shocks of natural blonde pulled as tight as humanly possible and fixed with an ebony pin.
She pulled her arms across her and inflated her chest, feet tight together at the heels in sensible and as austere as the rest of her reminding me of a school ma'am in black and white films. She could have stopped an army in its tracks: She certainly stopped me.
"So you're the new one. Not much to look at." The voice was clear and carried on the wind, it was a voice of prim simplicity. I regained my own posture, which was difficult with only one heeled shoe but I could not match the formality and sternness of the stand off.
"Your life if gravely endangered by coming here so my only warning to you is to get into that car and drive back to where ever you came from and do not return here." Apart from her mouth she did not move, not a muscle.
I stood, not knowing where to turn but really wishing I had not locked the door. I knew I could not fight this lady, either physically or verbally and I knew she knew this too. I felt five and stood in front of my head teacher for jumping the school pond, or more accurately, not jumping the school pond.
Through my fear I could feel my knickers full of frogspawn again.
"I....I...." I stuttered trying to engage brain and mouth to work as a partnership.
"Hurmmm." Phonated the woman. "You have been warned and I say this true. Go now before you cannot." And then she turned and marched with military precision along the driveway.
I watched her go, all the way to the end and past the gate house cottage.
I skipped up to the porch, a layer of grime and mould covered the low stone retainer wall that skirted the three white steps that led to the door. I tried to look through the windows to the interior to see what lay beyond the door, but like everything else on the outside there was a layer of grime that prevented any observation.
The bent key slipped into the paint chipped ornate keyhole. it turned surprisingly easy and gave a satisfying click as the lock disengaged. I gripped the door handle and opened the door. I braced myself for a rush of stale air but instead a scent of violets and honeysuckle greeted me as I stepped inside.
The hall's decoration was dated but very clean, not a trace of dust anywhere among the unused coat racks or expensive looking hall tables. The hall was bigger than my first flat and it lead onto a wide staircase that had a white six panelled door sat either side. I dropped my rucksack onto the floor. I was home.
I ran around the house, to excited to take in each room in detail just to find where everything was and to just see it all. I marvelled at the array of different uses rooms could be put to and I made a note to explore the library and games room (I'd never seen a full size snooker table before ever!), but my ultimate goal was to find the master bedroom and if they had such things back when this house was built (with block and tackle at the time of stone henge) an en suite.
My quest took me to the first floor where of the five rooms, one was locked and even with a slight bump that bruised my shoulder and aggravated my neck scar, three were bedrooms all larger than my current but nothing outstanding and the forth a deep and wide bathroom with beautiful blue paint and coral curtains hanging either side of a viewing window that through a patterned net curtain displayed the expansive gardens in all their glory. The bath was sat upon four curved legs in the middle of the real wood floor. I mean, its was just sat in the middle of the room, no wall to butt up to, no corner to hide in, just a beautiful curving bath sat upon polished oak timbers surrounded by space. There was a sink of carved stone on a pedestal with a cake of soap of sapphire blue sitting untouched between two curly silver taps. It took all of my will power to not strip off straight away and plunge myself into a steaming bath. ( I have never been so glad I brought the good shampoo.)
Reluctantly leaving the bathroom I headed back to the stairs and walked the eighteen steps to the second floor. Four rooms stood two abreast in the small landing and I opened them in turn clockwise. The two at the rear of the house were store rooms, one had an iron bed frame with no mattress (which I learned later was the maids room when servants were employed), boxes piled three high and room deep in neat rows with a smell of old paper.
It was the two doors that led to the rooms at the front of house that made my jaw drop. On the left there was a huge bedroom with a bed bigger than any Sultan or Maharaja would dream of. It was covered crisp sheets of gold and cream and feather filled pillows of softest down.
I launched myself into a full body jump onto the bed and bounced into the softest and most tender cuddle I had ever received from anything other than my Mum. A Narnia style wardrobe stood next to a dresser and vanity table that had a silver hairbrush and jewellery box which opened up to a velvet lined stacked tray containing a delicate gold necklace with a diamond drop attached in a lattice of gold thread. I knew this one thing was worth more than I could ever earn in ten life times. I shut the box quickly to avoid temptation of draping it around my neck and posing in the mirror facing me on the table.
The only puzzle in this room that I mentally noted to ask Xanthic later was a plinth next to a panoramic window upon which was an earthenware vase, undecorated, no pattern other than a wide lip, but with a hole cracked into one side, a few hair width cracks snaking away from centre.
The right hand room was a forest. Green leaved plants were heavily in abundance with lush foliage, ferns sat next to exotic flowers and trees. All that was missing was high humidity and bird song and I would have sworn I had stepped into the Amazon. The thickness of the flora prevented me seeing the far end of the room and without an obvious path I hesitated to walk into the room.
I made a hesitant step forward, my right foot hovering off the floor and I rocked it back and forward but could not find the incentive to place it within the confines of the green. Instead, telling myself I was going to settle into a bedroom and come back to explore later and not that I was scared of a house plant or two, I closed the door behind me and hurried back down the stairs.
I chucked my bag onto the bed in the bad bedroom on the first floor. I could have easily taken the larger bedroom upstairs but I am a girl of simple tastes and the smaller room more suits my style; that and that wonderful bathroom is just a few steps away and I can easily stroll from one room to the other effortlessly.
*
The zip on my rucksack is always stiff, but today it stuck. It took all my strength with hands gripped either side of the zip, fingers down in the small hole the zip allowed me to create before it skipped a beat and refused to move anymore, to get it to move. As the zip popped from its seating, the cheap metal bending and coming away, the bag opened and flew into the air as I was struck with a sudden biting pain in my left hand.
I looked at my hand as blood started to swell through a rough edged tear in the soft skin of my fingers. Iron filled my mouth as I sucked on my hand, my blood touching my lips and tongue as I licked it better. It wasn't bad and the blood stopped quickly so I grabbed my favourite summer dress from the floor where it fell from the bag and opened my handbag to get the good stuff ready for a long soak in the bath.
I had to do a double take when my bag opened, it was full of money. Cash notes, legal folding tender. I picked it up and thought for a second I had someone else's, but no, no one would have an identical rouge leather with blue strap (an amalgamation of two bags and a necessity when money was tight and decent nice new handbags were out of the gallery, let alone just the picture).
Pulling at least an inch of money out and holding it in my hand I fanned it out and looked at it with a smile. Some of the notes were much bigger than others with our beloved Queen looking so much younger than on current notes, there was even a folded white paper note filled with swirly and squiggly writing that look hand written. With what I recognised as proper money I guessed I had over £700. Well what can a girl do? Out in the country, a few quid in hand and a summer dress that deserves to be shown off.
"Pub." I sang as I skipped to the bathroom with shampoo in hand. Luckily I accidently packed my red heels as well as my sensible shoes.
*
18:35
An internet search of the local area highlighted three very respectable public houses within staggering distance of the house (essential for the trip home as I was not planning on driving). Bag on shoulder and shoes in hand I hurried down the stairs to the ground floor and hopped across the cold floor in my bare feet. The front door opened and I turned to lock it once I was through. I bent to slip on my shoes, reaching for the door to balance; as my head was bowed I saw a pair of legs down the drive. Standing, I turned to face them and saw an old lady, flowing black clothes hanging to the floor. A baggy skirt lace edged and silver buckle holding a knitted shawl across thin shoulders. Within the black stood a pencil thin as equally as straight woman, head held high and proud; piercing intelligent eyes looked straight at me without falter. Hair, greying with shocks of natural blonde pulled as tight as humanly possible and fixed with an ebony pin.
She pulled her arms across her and inflated her chest, feet tight together at the heels in sensible and as austere as the rest of her reminding me of a school ma'am in black and white films. She could have stopped an army in its tracks: She certainly stopped me.
"So you're the new one. Not much to look at." The voice was clear and carried on the wind, it was a voice of prim simplicity. I regained my own posture, which was difficult with only one heeled shoe but I could not match the formality and sternness of the stand off.
"Your life if gravely endangered by coming here so my only warning to you is to get into that car and drive back to where ever you came from and do not return here." Apart from her mouth she did not move, not a muscle.
I stood, not knowing where to turn but really wishing I had not locked the door. I knew I could not fight this lady, either physically or verbally and I knew she knew this too. I felt five and stood in front of my head teacher for jumping the school pond, or more accurately, not jumping the school pond.
Through my fear I could feel my knickers full of frogspawn again.
"I....I...." I stuttered trying to engage brain and mouth to work as a partnership.
"Hurmmm." Phonated the woman. "You have been warned and I say this true. Go now before you cannot." And then she turned and marched with military precision along the driveway.
I watched her go, all the way to the end and past the gate house cottage.
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